Anyone who knows Sara Rice knows she stands out in a crowd like
a pair of red cowboy boots. She's not into traditional anything -
especially a traditional wedding.

"Even the word 'bridesmaid' grosses me out," she said.

Tuesday evening, with a pink cotton candy bouquet in hand, the
Dallas hair stylist married Mexico City's Luis Martinez in the
shadow of Big Tex at the State Fair of Texas.

The renegade ceremony, quicker than a midway ride and officiated
by the Rev. Pinky Diablo, capped a whirlwind romance that has been
similarly wacky and spontaneous.

"It's just, like, perfect," Martinez said. "Our personalities
and how our love is. We're just crazy, and we have a good
time."

It was possibly the only knot-tying in Texas history to include
half-price rides and $3 off admission with an empty Dr Pepper
can.

Diablo, dressed as a mini-Tex in trademark yellow shirt, red
kerchief and jeans, explained: Two years ago, Rice spent a
long-awaited vacation in Mexico. "What she came back with," he
said, "were the hopeful beginnings of what we are celebrating today
- the love of a little macho bull for his American sweet tart."

It was that kind of occasion.

Rice, 34, wore white still smudged with makeup from a Day of the
Dead celebration and possibly some mustard. (The dress, bought for
$50 at a Garland thrift store, was last year's Halloween costume.)
Martinez, 25, wore a gray silk suit over a Budweiser beer
shirt.

An artist specializing in skeleton imagery, Diablo (real name:
Tom Sale) has become an unofficial lay preacher to the local arts
community, while his wife, Dottie Love (real name: Dottie Love)
raises miniature Zebu cattle at their Ennis County ranch.

Two weeks ago, Love enlisted Martinez to help show her cattle at
the fair. It was his first time to the Texas fair, and he literally
ate it up.

"I tried everything," he said. "I was like a kid. I had fried
heartburn after."

Rice, meanwhile, is the kind of person who makes an impression,
even among her artsy crowd, a circle of friends whose haunts
include local vintage shops like Dolly Python in East Dallas.

"The first time I met her," Love said, "I said to her, 'You are
so beautiful.' She looks like an angel, though she has lots of
tattoos."

"Sara is probably the wildest person I know," added Sale, who
teaches art at Hill College in Hillsboro.

"Actually, getting married at the fair seems pretty tame and
normal to me for her."

The whole thing had come together as chancy as a ring toss. Two
years ago, several days into a Yucatan vacation, the Georgia-born
Rice had tired of the beach and the books. She was ready to go out
and party.

Trouble was, none of her friends wanted to go with her. She
couldn't go alone; a recent spate of kidnappings had been all over
the news.

Then, she remembered an exchange she'd had with pal Holly
Jefferson not long before; Jefferson had befriended Martinez on a
previous trip to the area and suggested Rice call him.

They agreed to meet at a club. Within minutes, they were joking
in their in-your-face, twisted way, acting like old friends.

"It was like we actually knew each other before," said Martinez,
a hospitality graduate working at a local hotel.

It was an oh-my-God-I-love-that-too kind of night.

"I was comfortable," Rice said. "I knew I was not going to get
kidnapped."

It was the first real vacation she'd had in years, and she
figured she'd never see Martinez again. She felt no need to hold
back. She was just herself.

They spent her remaining three days in Mexico together, touring
Mayan villages and swimming in Caribbean sinkholes. Before she
left, he'd given her the shirt off his back.

More visits followed, plus lots of Skype time, and they decided
it was a relationship worth holding on to, never mind the age
difference. Rice suggested petitioning for a "fiance visa," which
allows approved foreign citizens engaged to Americans to visit the
U.S. and wed within 90 days of arrival.

"Are you asking me to marry you?" he asked.

"I guess," she replied.

For eight months, they jumped through the requisite hoops, and
she visited his parents - a dentist and an electric company
employee - in Mexico City. "They're basically the family I always
wanted," Rice said.

Before they met, Rice had started to think that true love was
not her lot in life. But Martinez's easygoing demeanor, she said,
perfectly complemented her flamboyant spirit.

"I like to say he's so cool you can put him in your pocket and
take him anywhere," Rice said. "It's like we're puzzle pieces. We
fit in so many ways."

They elected not to alert fair officials to their plans for fear
of getting stalled in bureaucracy, but it was Big Tex who halted
the proceedings on Tuesday, bellowing his loud, extended welcome to
fairgoers just as the vows got under way.

But then it was time.

"By the power vested in me by Fletcher's Corny Dogs," Sale said,
"I pronounce you husband and wife."

Rice kicked up a red boot, then tossed her cotton candy bouquet
into the crowd of about 100 cheering friends and curious
onlookers.

Then the married couple headed toward the lights of Fair Park.
Carnies clapped their congratulations as Martinez carried his bride
across the threshold of the blinking midway.